


Attraction

by j_gabrielle



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Abandonment Issues, Angst, Community: pacificrimkink, Feels, Fluff, Incest, Insecurities, Jealousy, M/M, Romance, but at the beginning they didn't know it, conflicting emotions, i fail at this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-20
Updated: 2013-07-20
Packaged: 2017-12-20 19:13:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/890857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/j_gabrielle/pseuds/j_gabrielle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on a kink meme prompt; <a href="http://pacificrimkink.livejournal.com/350.html?thread=184926#t184926">Chuck was the product of a one night stand and his mom never bothered to tell Herc about him. Cue the kaiju attack and Chuck enrolling into the academy. There was instant chemistry/attraction the first time they meet that eventually leads to a relationship. Then they both realized their connection the first time they drift. 

I expect angst, angst, angst. But ultimately, I’d like them to continue their relationship.</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Attraction

**Author's Note:**

> ultra_maniac claimed this on the kink meme, but I finished mine, so...
> 
> Hope this is okay with everyone.

It’s the feel of a cold bottle of beer against the back of his hand that makes him look up from his notes. Frowning at the sudden distraction, Chuck is about to deliver a verbal smack down to the offender when the words die a quick death on the tip of his tongue.

“Hi.” The man says, smirking as he looms over Chuck; a wall of bulk and muscle. “Can I join you?”

Tongue-tied, Chuck wordlessly shuffles his papers to one side, scooting over to make space in the cramped booth. The man laughs, sliding in next to him. “Thanks.”

Chuck nods, forcing his attention back to his neatly written points, willing himself to not blush too hard. “I didn’t poison it, you know?” At Chuck’s uncomprehending look, the man clarifies. “The beer I bought for you. It’s clean.”

Raising an eyebrow, “That’s what they all say.”

The man leans against the back rest, mouth forming around the lip of his own bottle, mirth crinkling the corners of his impossibly blue eyes. “Aren’t you a little too young to be this jaded?”

Chuck feels an unexpected flutter of butterfly wings in his chest, and begins to sense the flush creeping over his cheeks. Looking away, he grabs the drink, taking a long gulp.

“Thanks.” He mutters, ducking his head.

“It’s no problem really. Consider it a ‘thank you’ for letting me share your booth.” The man tilts his beer in salute. There’s a slight twang to his words, an accent. Australian? New Zealender?

Chuck doesn’t really know what to do with himself other than to shrug and recommit himself to his revision. Everyone he knows is at one study-group or another, but that has never been his style. His final paper for the semester is Pentecost’s, and he wants to do well.

The next time he is aware of the man with him in the booth, it is when he whispers directly into his ear. “You need to read this one instead of that one. Try integrating page 394 of this textbook with paragraph 21 of this text.”

Taken aback and blushing furiously at this point, Chuck turns to face the man, “How do you know all this? You can’t possibly know anything.”

A brief emotion flickers over his features and the man schools them into a smile, leaning forward into the dim light of the lamp. The light casts an eerie quality to the man’s handsome face, illuminating the pale strands of his ginger spikes. “Let me make you a deal; if you pass your exams based on what I told you, I’ll buy you a drink. If you fail, I buy you a drink. Either way, you get a free drink.” He grins.

“What do you get out of all this?” Chuck asks warily. No one ever helps him out for free.

The man seems to take some time to ponder over his answer. Eventually he shakes his head and smiles. “Nothing, really. Just the pleasure of buying you a drink.”

Chuck grits his teeth unhappily. This stranger’s proposal to streamline what Pentecost had refused to is beginning to look more and more seductive by the minute. There is a pounding at the back of his head that is growing steadily, and all he wants is to melt into a puddle of frustration at the brutality his mind has be put through.

“Fine.” He mutters, telling himself that the sight of sparkling blue eyes watching him approvingly. Wrapping his fingers around the neck of his beer bottle, he glances sideways at the man. “At least tell me your name.”

The man raises an eyebrow, as if surprised. “Herc.” He offers after awhile, “You can call me Herc.”

* * *

 

“Baked beans?”

Chuck shrugs, shuffling over to the stove and emptying the contents of the can into the pan. He hears Herc’s footfalls, coming up from behind and wrapping his strong arms around him. The touch simultaneously makes him desire to curl away from his lover and to fold himself back into him.

“What’s wrong?” Herc murmurs against the shell of his ear, nuzzling his nose against the line of Chuck’s jaw. When that doesn’t elicit any of the usual responses, Herc sighs, pressing his thumb against the line of his hip. “C’mon Chuck… Please? I’ve only got two days leave, and I don’t want to spend it fighting with you.”

Chuck grabs the ladle from the drying rack, stirring the viscous lumpy-red sauce, dislodging the bits of beans. “Who was she?” He says when Herc rests his head on the curve of Chuck’s shoulder.

“Who was whom?”

Chuck refuses to be distracted by the whisper of Herc’s whiskers against his skin, the press of warm lips on the freckles on his neck. “That woman who kissed you.”

He tries to keep the little green-eyed monster in him hidden, trying hard to cast an air of indifference in his words. But judging from the way Herc stills behind him, it isn’t working so well.

Herc pulls him back against him and Chuck does not resist. He crosses his arms, refusing to back down or to let himself listen to the voice in the back of his head that sneers and calls him a petty little boy. Herc takes the pan off the fire before moving back to encircle him in his embrace.

“Are you jealous?” He chuckles, and Chuck has to look away.

“No.”

“Liar.”

Incensed, Chuck pushes him away, storming two steps to the other end of the small space. “So what if I am?!” He cries, gesturing wildly, registering somewhere in the back of his mind that arguing like this only dressed in Herc’s shirt is a very stupid idea. Something in him dies when Herc’s blue eyes widen in surprise. “So what if I am just a tiny bit jealous of all the girls that flock over you whenever you are not with me? So what if I stay up at night wondering if the next time you call me will be the time you tell me that I’ve just got too much--”

“Hey, hey!” Herc grabs him by his forearms and despite himself, Chuck calms down the moment work worn hands press onto his skin. Chuck purses his lips, looking at everything but the man in front of him. Softly, he hears Herc say, “Is that what’s been going on in your head? Chuck?”

Squeezing his eyes close, he exhales, willing his heart to stop beating with a layer of thorns wrapped around it.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get angry.” Chuck whispers sullenly, breaking away. He goes over to the pan of cooling beans, grabbing a bowl. Keeping his eyes on the food, he refuses to acknowledge the way Herc follows him with his eyes and the subtle tilts of his body.

“Chuck.”

Herc lays a hand over his; touching him as if he was going to break. Chuck thinks that he is going to be sick.

“Forget I said anything. Just-let’s just pretend that the last five minutes didn’t happen okay?” Chuck pleads, looking up. “Please?”

He catches the faint tick at the corner of Herc’s jaw, and he knows that the older man won’t be letting this go any time soon.

Chuck grabs his bowl of beans and beats a hasty retreat to their bed. The grey sheets are still mussed from their earlier round of enthusiastic sex. Chuck has to bite back the venomous thoughts that it was probably the last time Herc will touch him that way.

He feels the bed dip, the faint musk of leather, machine and sleep enveloping his senses as familiar hands take the bowl out of his hands. “Lie with me.” Chuck can almost taste the heartbreak.

“I’m going to only say this once, because I’m not those kinds of people who talks about their emotions.” He says quietly into the still air. “Chuck, I don’t know where you’ve been getting these ideas, but I’m not leaving you. I’m not cheating on you; I wasn’t lying when I said that you’re the only one for me. I know you probably think I’m going to leave you like your dad did, but I am not and you need to understand.” Chuck feels Herc scoot down the bed until their faces were mere breaths apart. “I want you—no. I _need_ you. And you need to start trusting that I can and will take care of your heart.”

Chuck tangles his hands in the folds of Herc’s wifebeater, nosing the jut of his collarbone. He feels the fight drain out of him, feeling decidedly stupid about his little tantrum. Of course Hec won’t say anything about it; will listen, be patient, be understanding about the whole thing. Chuck worries the fabric between his fingers. Sometimes he wishes that Herc would just fight him on some things.

Herc brings his hand to brush the soft strands of hair at Chuck’s nape. “Pentecost tells me that we’re pairing up soon.”

Smiling against Herc’s skin, Chuck nods. A blossom of warm pride flowers in him. Pentecost has already told him this a few days ago, and he had been wondering about how best to approach the subject. “Does it bother you?” He asks.

“No, not really. Cherno Alpha’s pilots-Kaidanovsky, I think-are married and they seem to be doing just fine.” A pause, “Does it bother you?”

Chuck pretends to think for a moment, breaking when Herc growls. “No, it doesn’t.” He rolls over, hitching the shirt to straddle Herc, smirking. Pushing away their problems for now, he strips himself of Herc’s shirt, arching slightly to show off. “Can we skip the make-up sex for the congratulatory one?”

Herc laughs, deep and booming, catching him by his sides.

* * *

 

Chuck ran.

Techs scatter at the sight of him, and he can feel the stares that follow him as he rushes through the hallways like a wraith.

 _hair,skin,warmth,smile,eyes,freckles,dimple,hands,touch,_ kiss

‘Nononono….!” Chuck gasps, shaking his head rapidly as he turns a corner.

_laughter in his ear, joy in his chest, the pain of walking away_

He reaches the toilet just in time for the re-emergence of his lunch. Black spots dance behind his eyes, the choking vice around his ribs tight and unrelenting. Chuck grips the lip of the seat, salty tears streaming down his face as his lungs cried for oxygen.

_the feel of her skin, the smell of her hair, her lips on his, the way she dances_

A hand gently stokes his back, and Chuck jumps, scrambling away. He registers the pain and hurt on Herc’s face through the blur of his tears. Chuck looks away, wiping away the bile on his lips with the back of his hand.

“Y-You shouldn’t be here…” He mumbles shakily.

Herc flushes the toilet, moving past him to the room. “Here.” He says when he returns, holding out a bottle of water.

Chuck takes it, unscrewing the cap and taking slow sips. Herc stands stiffly at the door, watching him carefully and Chuck hates this.

“We need to talk.” Herc says, crossing his arms. “Chuck-”

“What’s there to talk about?” Chuck replies, shoving past him. “There is absolutely nothing to say.”

“There is absolutely _everything_ to say!” Herc roars. Chuck flinches, fisting his hand at his side. “Chuck, we’re—you’re my—“

“I’m your _son_.” Chuck spits out, throwing the bottle to the far corner of the room. “You’re the dad I had always thought left my mum and me before I was born, the one I had been blaming for my issues! You’re… You’re my dad.”

Herc sits down heavily on the bed, letting his head fall into his hands. “Two years.” He whispers roughly, voice leaden with emotion. “God, Chuck… I _touched_ you. I _fucked_ my own son!”

Chuck sits down next to him, keeping a small distance between them. “If you remember correctly, I touched you too.” He offers, shoulders slumping. “Herc…”

“I can’t even look at you right now.”

Chuck feels his heart drop, feeling light-headed. Grimly, he steels himself.

“I need time. Can you give me some time?” Herc asks, muffled by his hands. Pushing himself upright, he stares at the wall of postcards on the wall opposite them. Chuck can’t trust himself to answer, choosing instead to nod once.

They sit next to each other, not touching. Chuck tries to remember the last time he told Herc that he loved him, told him that he made him the happiest person on Earth. He begins to mourn on the inside.

A million thoughts and thread of emotions run wild in him. Will this partnership work now? Will he have to give up his chance to be a Ranger? Are they going to reassign him? Their compatibility is off the charts, but who is to say that Herc won’t go behind his back and organize a transfer. He mulls over his increasingly dark thoughts, wringing his hands.

“Hey.” Herc says softly, knocking his knee against his. “You’ve got to understand something okay? No matter what I decide, no matter how either one of us feels, I _will_ always love you. Okay?”

Chuck wishes he has the braveness to hug Herc, to bury himself so deep in his heart that he can erase the last two hours of his life. Forcing a smile, he nods, choking down on the first slivers of his broken heart.

 

 

[end.]

**Author's Note:**

> [Got a prompt you'd like to see me fill directly? Leave it here.](http://randomingoftherandomness.tumblr.com/ask)


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